Corn and bread

30 days hath September, and each is a waste of time. What is its point? Nothing more than a doorway to pass from summer to autumn. It is a nothing month, back to school, no holidays, no season. A pause before Hallowe'en and bonfire night.September is not quite autumn, the dregs of summer. Not yet the crisp blue skies and golden-orange leaves. There is the promise of conkers to come, but mainly the ground is a sludgy brown.So really, the only thing for it is to hole up at home, light some candles and the fire and wait under the duvet until October. That's how it is in London anyway. I'm sure it's beautiful in Vermont.And with that to consider, here is some comforting cornbread to sustain you through the bleakness. I've added cherry tomatoes, olives and oregano to this one to give a little hint of Italy. The bread is quite dense and chewy, so is best served with something creamy or saucy. It would be an absolutely perfect match with meatballs in tomato sauce. I had it with slices of ham, soft cheese and some more roasted tomatoes. For the children, I trashily fried slices in butter until the edges were crisp and poured over baked beans and melting cheese. That was a win.Ingredients350g fine cornmeal4g Maldon salt315ml milk2 eggs70g cherry tomatoes, halved1tsp ground turmeric1tbsp dried oreganoA pinch of chilli flakes5 black kalamata olives, torn (you could easily double this if you like)30ml olive oil100ml buttermilk (or natural yoghurt)1tsp baking powderMethodHeat the oven to 180c.Whisk all the ingredients together in a large bowl until you have a smooth batter.Leave to rest for about five minutes then pour into a cast iron skillet or pan and bake in the oven for 45 minutes, or until set fairly firm.Leave to cool for a few minutes and serve.

Aubergine in Oil (Melanzane Sott'Olio)

I Tarocchi is a bar in the small Ligurian hilltop town of Apricale. It was the week before Valentine's Day, about a thousand years ago before we had children and Bee and I had gone to live in the cold Italian winter for a week's break.The old stone house we had rented was charming and a little damp downstairs, probably rather like the old man who sat dressed in black outside his front door up the street watching very little passing by. We relaxed on either a sofa made from rocks or a single balcony chair and wondered if there was anyone anywhere, or whether we'd come to the end of civilisation. It was very quiet. However, and unsurprisingly given the Italians' love of food, there were plenty of eating opportunities around even if it felt like even the ghosts had left town.As we ventured out for the first evening, fully dressed for an Arctic expedition for fear of catching a mal aria, a few  locals were gainfully employed trying to string red paper hearts and bunting around the town square. Only one restaurant was closed, to open for the 'season' the week after we left, which of course made it seem from last year's weathered  menu the best restaurant in Italy.We passed a small village shop, nothing special, but still full of food that would shame an expensive London deli. This was to serve us for basic needs. There was also a grocer round the corner which was more like a few shelves the farmer was in charge of making beautiful and here we bought our veg. But it was I Tarocchi which captured our valentine hearts.Glued to the hill's edge and illuminated by the peculiar Italian love for strip lights, it looked more like a bad youth club than a place to eat. Tinny music played from cheap speakers and no expense was spent on decoration. We sat outside like lunatics, just for the view and ordered a plate of antipasti. The food was brilliant. Here we discovered that a  simple tomato pasta can be the greatest dish in the world, and I've based my recipe on theirs ever since. And there, antipasti reached great heights. It included melanzane sott'olio. This wasn't the first time for me, I'd had it before but sort of forgotten about it and it took a little while to remember what it was.Piled on top of the salumi, Parma ham, artichokes and Ligurian olives were strings of matchstick thin aubergine. Garlicky and herbal they tasted rich, decadent and luxurious. Simple, classic Italian and a superb way to use this king of vegetables. I made some immediately upon our return, eat them and promptly forgot about them again. It was only at Crystal Palace food market last weekend, where I saw the wonderful striped aubergines that they firmly bounced back into my mind. They're well worth making if you have a few aubergines lying around (don't we all), and well worth remembering too.Ingredients2 aubergines, sliced thinly and cut into long matchsticks2 cloves of garlic, peeled1tbsp dried oreganoA handful of fine sea saltOlive oil to cover2tbsp white wine vinegarMethodPlace the aubergine in a colander and toss through the salt, mixing well. Cover and leave for about 12 hours.Rinse the aubergines gently and squeeze dry, as dry as possible.Put in a sterilised jar with the garlic, oregano and vinegar then cover in olive oil. Leave for a few days in the fridge before eating and keep for up to a week, if it lasts that long.

Ooh, saucy.

In the time it's taken for you to read this sentence, you could have already made this tomato sauce. It's that quick. I make mine in my NutriBullet, but a stick blender or food processor will do the job too.Make sure you use juicy, ripe tomatoes. Tinned are also a good bet when we're not quite at the height of tomato season. You can make this while the pasta is cooking, and then just stir it in and heat for a minute or two. It really does take ten seconds and is also great as a sauce for homemade pizza.Ingredients400g tomatoes, fresh or tinned2 cloves of garlic1 small onion1tbsp dried oreganoA small pour of olive oilSalt and pepperMethodBlitz all the ingredients together until smooth, heat through and serve with the pasta. See, it doesn't even need cooking, really.